


Thaw

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Returns, How Do I Tag, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sexual Content, Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug, Top Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm not used to post WS Bucky! Sorry if this chapter is way off, I was quite rushed today, and have yet to adjust. Also, I've switched to present tense, so forgive tense mistakes as I'm sure there will be/have been many.</p><p>I don't have time to post/tag this properly. I will revisit it.</p><p>Thanks again for your continued support on this journey!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not used to post WS Bucky! Sorry if this chapter is way off, I was quite rushed today, and have yet to adjust. Also, I've switched to present tense, so forgive tense mistakes as I'm sure there will be/have been many.
> 
> I don't have time to post/tag this properly. I will revisit it.
> 
> Thanks again for your continued support on this journey!

Two thousand fourteen, for two years Steve has lived here in the future - in the present. Two years of healing, and adjusting, only to find out Bucky was alive. Bucky was here. Bucky had survived.

How? Steve doesn't know. It was impossible, but it was also impossible for him to be here. So maybe impossible things weren't as impossible as he thought.

Or something.

Steve doesn't really care, he's used to not understanding things, and this is incomprehensible. But one thing is for sure, Bucky is alive, and Steve wants him back

Bucky doesn't remember him. After all this time, everything he swore he'd never forget. It was all gone, and he may not be actively involved in Hydra anymore, and he may not be for SHIELD, or what would be SHIELD if it hadn't gone to the dogs, but he's trying.

He doesn't know Steve. He knows there's something, but he doesn't know what. That's why he saved him.

He knocks on Steve's door six months after they'd started searching for him, on a chilly day in mid October wearing jeans and a hoodie with more facial hair than Steve had ever seen on him, looking completely different than the last time Steve had seen him, "Can I come in?" He'd asked, and Steve couldn't help but trust him. Stepping aside, and welcoming him into the warm, quiet, safe apartment.

He sat on Steve's couch, perched on the edge, his eyes focused on something far away, and Steve wondered if he was trying to remember.

Steve brought him a blanket, draped it around his shoulders, and Bucky seemed taken aback by the act of kindness. Slowly, he pulled a pistol from the backpack he carried, and set it on the coffee table, knowing his responsibility to arm his handlers. Steve looks at it, but doesn't comment, just stood, and walked back to the kitchen to get Bucky some tea.

Bucky leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, and Steve kneels in front of him, offering the mug of tea. Bucky looks at it, then looks at Steve's face. "You said we were friends?" He whispers, and Steve nods.

"Best friends." He says, softly, and Bucky takes the tea. He looks at it once more, and takes a hesitant sip. Steve smiles at the sign of trust. He'd never hurt Bucky, but Bucky didn't know that. He didn't know what was in the tea, and he drank it nonetheless.

"Thank you," Bucky says, hesitantly. Like it's not something he's used to saying, but feels is necessary now.

Steve sits back on his heels, "Need anything?"

Bucky shakes his head, and Steve stands, walking back to the kitchen. He's rinsing the dishes, loading them into his dishwasher when he hears Bucky approach. He continues, stealing glances at Bucky's reflection in the window. He's watching him with quiet interest, as if he's never seen anyone wash dishes before.

"Sir?" Bucky says, quietly, and Steve shuts the water off, turning to face him, drying his hands on a towel. "I don't know what to call you. Or should I just call you sir?"

"Please, call me Steve."

Bucky nods, and moves closer, offering Steve his mug. Steve takes it, rinsing it out, and slipping it in the dishwasher.

"Were we lovers?" He says it clumsily, like the word didn't taste right in his mouth, like he couldn't understand how someone would want that with him, but has to know.

"Well," Steve pauses, "I guess you could say that."

Bucky doesn't say anything.

"It was complicated." Steve offers, "We did what we could get away with, we did it well, and we did it often."

"I visited the Smithsonian," Bucky says, and his eyes are unfocused again. "I looked..." He meets Steve's eyes, his arms coming up, wrapping around his ribs, "Happy."

"We were happy, Buck." Steve rests a hand in his shoulder. Bucky flinches, and Steve feels a pang of sadness, drawing his hand back.

Bucky's eyes lock on his, "Are you afraid of me?"

Steve stares back, unwavering, he wet his lips, and let his eyes search him briefly, "No."

Bucky fell silent, taking this in. He let out a breath, taking a step closer, "I didn't know where else to go." Bucky admits. "I understand if you don't want me here."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like." Steve offers, "It's nothing fancy, but it's home."

Bucky nods, "May I use your shower?"

"Of course." Steve leads him to the bathroom, then the bedroom for a change of clothes. They were close enough to the same size, and Bucky had nothing. He finds a plastic bag of travel size toiletries he's accumulated. Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, razor, soap, little things like that, and offers it to Bucky before leaving him in privacy to bathe.

Steve allows himself a moment to think as he waits for Bucky on the couch, examining the pistol, opening it, emptying it. Looking over the bullets. These untraceable weapons that he used. He deposited the ammunition in a drawer on his desk as he heard the shower cut off, and reassembled the pistol with a click. He's sure Bucky has plenty more weapons on his person, but this gun, at least, was clean.

Bucky stills when he sees Steve with the pistol, and when Steve notices, he puts it down. "Feel better?"

Bucky nods, fully emerging, his clothes in hand. Filthy, but folded. "Thank you."

Bucky looks completely different when he emerges from the shower. Hair combed, clean shaven, thank god, and fresh. He wears a white sleeveless shirt that hugs his body in the most wonderful way, and grey sweatpants that clung loosely to his hips.

"I'll try to go shopping this weekend and get you some of your own things." Steve says, a bit awkwardly after so clearly checking him out.

"You don't have to do that." Bucky insists.

"I'd rather you dressed like a civilian if you don't mind my saying so." Steve smiles.

"Yes, sir."

Steve looks at him, really looks at him, and James has to look away, walking to the door, and placing his clothes where his shoes are.

James feels awkward, and moves to lean a hip against the armrest of the couch. He ran a hand over his left arm, shoulder to wrist, wishing this shirt had sleeves, but at the same time, enjoying the range of motion without them.

He slowly slips to the floor, leaning back against the couch, and sighing. Steve's hand reaches to pet his damp hair, abandoning the movement before he even reached half the distance between them.

"Were we... Dating?" Bucky spoke up.

"Not exactly," Steve slipped fingers through his own hair instead. "You really don't remember anything, do you?"

"Not really something I could read about in the museum, now, is it?"

"Fair enough."

It had been that way for the first week. Cold, distant silence, every now and then a question asked, but unfortunately, progress was very slow.

He stayed in the bedroom across the hall from Steve's, and just knowing he was there was a comfort to Steve, though he was anxious to have his Bucky back.

"Hey, Steve?" Bucky says looking up from the dinner table one night, almost two months after he'd shown up at his door. Steve's expression is open and friendly, clearly listening, not something Bucky was exactly used to. Unless he was giving a report, he wasn't usually allowed to speak. "Do you-?" He breaks off before he got the question out, shaking his head, "Never mind."

"Do I..?" Steve tried, "What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"You can ask me," Steve offered, "I won't be mad, I swear."

Bucky contemplates this for a second, before throwing caution to the wind, and asking, "Do you still want to kiss me, Steve?" Bucky asks, evenly, testing each word out on his tongue, clearly something he'd put a lot of thought into.

Steve looks quite startled, and James thinks that might have been too forward, but doesn't backtrack. He waits, silently.

Steve is flustered, Bucky hasn't even insinuated romantic interest with him anymore. Where did this come from? "Of course, but... Why?"

His eyes search Steve's features, "Because I want to kiss you." He said cautiously, but as if it were completely obvious.

"Okay," Steve allowed, and Bucky continues his meal in silence.

Bucky helps Steve rinse the dishes, as is their most recent custom, only this time, when Steve turned to Bucky using his towel to dry his hands, Steve thanks him with a kiss. Just a small peck to the corner of his lips, to which Bucky has no reaction.

Afterwards, Steve puts on an old film, finding a cozy spot on the couch to watch from. Bucky is there, his quiet presence almost eerie. He's gotten better about opening up, and proving that he's still in there somewhere, and every now and then Steve can hope, but after so long, Steve starts giving up on finding him in the depths of this winter soldier's haunted eyes.

Bucky let out a long, dramatic groan, slipping from his icy composure into irritation smoothly "How many musical numbers can one movie have?" He complains, reaching across Steve for the remote. As easily as if it were choreographed, Steve lifted it from his reach, leaving him draped across his lap.

"You can sure fucking pick 'em, Rogers." Bucky mutters under his breath.

"I know," Steve smiles at him, undeterred, "I like the music."

"That's because you have shit taste." He makes another grab for the remote.

"I got good taste in men." Steve counters, knowing of Bucky denied it, he'd be insulting himself.

"Horrible judge of character." He huffs, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder, and sliding a thigh between his legs, using the leverage to lift himself up and grab for the remote. Steve, as always, was one step ahead of him, and he was left sitting lopsided in Steve's lap, awkwardly straddling one of his thighs.

Steve isn't bothered, "You're not that bad. You're rather cute when you're sleeping."

Bucky lets his weight shift to the couch, his legs still lying across Steve's lap. "Fuck you, Rogers." He snaps, "and don't watch me sleep, that shit's creepy."

"I don't." Steve says, taking the battery from the remote control, shifting, and putting it in his pocket. He knows Bucky doesn't really sleep anyway. An hour or two a night, maybe, but only after he's checked the room for surveillance equipment a dozen times over, and paced the length of the house until Steve's sure he's worn a path in the carpet. He doesn't let it bother him, but he does worry.

"You're an ass." Bucky decides.

"Old news, Buck." Steve murmurs

"I don't like you."

"Now I'm hurt," Steve presses a hand to his chest in mock surprise, "I think I'll give up the remote as a peace offering." He deadpans.

Bucky glares at him, his expression a completely disproportionate amount of irritation given the situation, but Steve only found it endearing. He spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye, and he knows Bucky can see the smile he's trying to hide.

"Come on," Steve insists, "We have a deal. If we watch a movie, you pick on odd days of the month, I pick on even."

"But you have shit taste in movies." Bucky protests, "You blindsided me with that deal."

"Be grateful you only have to watch them on even days of the month, and stop being a baby." 

With a huff, James falls into the couch, crossing his arms, and after ten more minutes, he's has had it with this shitty movie. He reaches across Steve's lap, digging fingers into the pocket of his jeans. Not quite the master of stealth in his efforts, but Steve doesn't bother paying him any mind. He still has the remote.

"There are easier ways in my pants than through the pocket, Buck."

For the record, James does not hesitate from a jab like that. He remains perfectly composed when Steve looked down at him, all smug from besting him, and James grasped the closure on his jeans, expertly flicking the button open. Looking stubbornly up at Steve, Bucky grins, suddenly terrifying, "I'll wrestle you for it."

Steve's idea of wrestling with Bucky has little to do with actual wrestling, and based on the way Bucky's pupils dilate as he watches him think it over, Steve knows he's not he only one who thinks that way.

"We both know how that'll end." Steve says dryly, suddenly aware of how close Bucky is to his groin.

"Exactly," Bucky says, as if that makes the deal, instead of breaking it. "I've been dyin' to break some of your furniture." He insists, "Fucking you through something would be my genuine pleasure."

Steve laughs. Not a chuckle, a full bellied laugh, because, no. Not until he trusts Bucky a little bit more.

Bucky sits up, glaring at him, because it's not a joke. Steve's movie sucks, and James hasn't gotten laid since he's been on the run. Steve ignores him. Still not giving him the satisfaction of winning an argument, training him as though he was merely a petulant child giving him attitude, instead of a soviet assassin adjusting to a life where he can't just kill anyone that takes too long to bag his groceries.

A warm hand on the back of his neck brings Steve's attention back to Bucky, who leans forward, and bites his lower lip. Steve gasps, and Bucky holds his face with both hands, and kisses him. It wasn't a teasing little peck, it was a real kiss.

When Steve feels Bucky's warm lips beneath his own, he thinks his heart may burst. Bucky's kiss is rough, and demanding, familiar, and probably meaningless. A show of power, or maybe he's just really horny, Steve doesn't know. He's not as finely tuned to this Bucky, but his mouth sure tastes familiar.

Bucky leads the kiss, guiding it as Steve begins kissing him back, and keeping control as he draws him in. As far as kisses go, Steve's wasn't bad. It wasn't the best James has experienced, but it definitely wasn't the worst. In a way, James considers himself an expert in this area, he's put forth quite a lot of effort to master this particular skill set, and prides himself in his ability to give a good kiss.

Within seconds, Steve was like putty in his hands, starving for his kiss like James was oxygen, and Steve was drowning. It was hard for James not to want to take advantage of that, to keep himself in the mindset that Steve had welcomed him into his home, and like any of his other handlers, he should be treated with respect, as a higher authority. To keep the Asset caged away where he couldn't hurt Steve, James really doesn't want to hurt Steve.

James also wants more of this, and he knows, if he pulls Steve closer, if he moans just a little, he'll have him, and maybe, Steve won't think anything of it.

Steve felt Bucky's warm fingers twist in his hair, metal fingers curling around his hip, loosely, but not at all hesitant, like he can't help but touch him, and the thought gave him a small thrill. Bucky hitches a leg over his body, and forces him back on the couch, and there it was, that struggle for domination.

James can't remember the last time he got to make out with someone. He remembers kisses, hasty, stolen kisses in the midst of fucking someone. Never more. Kissing is vulnerable. The winter soldier is not vulnerable, the asset is not vulnerable. But maybe, maybe this James was, and maybe he had to be. But if James let things slip, he could ruin everything, and just that that, he'd be on the run again.

Deep inside, James knows he needs to submit to Rogers, but he won't go down without at least showing an effort. He can't have Rogers thinking he's soft.

They wrestled themselves off the couch, knocking over a side table, and causing two pictures to fall from the wall. James' grin is predatory, and he doesn't stop fighting Steve for it until he's hard, and ready for action, and as an act of submission, he lets Steve pin him to the carpet.

"I win." Steve announces, kissing Bucky's panting lips swiftly, "Any last words?" He murmurs against his mouth, and Bucky couldn't have asked for a better opportunity.

"Fuck me," he breathes, "Do it. Show me how we used to do it. Make me remember you. I need to remember."

It was almost complete bullshit, but Bucky wanted this, and he knew how to get it, and if he has to fuck around with some emotions to get there, so be it.

Steve cursed, his lips hard on Bucky's suddenly, and Bucky wraps his legs around Steve's waist to draw him in. He's got him. James has got him. The fight is won.

Abruptly, Steve lifts him, carrying him to the bedroom, where he's deposited on the bed, with Steve kneeling over him, to be thoroughly kissed and groped.

From then, it was a blur, because, apparently, when you ask Captain America to fuck you, there's no screwing around. It isn't slow, or sweet, or any of that. It's rough, and a bit crazy, and James is going to be bruised as hell, and he doesn't care.

Bucky is panting, gasping as Steve pounded into him, relentless, tearing pleasure from deep within his body, parts James thought couldn't be reached anymore, and his eyes are intense, Bucky can feel them, but can't look at them. He keeps his eyes tightly shut as Steve holds his face between his hands, fucking him hard. It's so good.

"Look at me," Steve whispered, "Bucky, look at me."

James opened his eyes, and Steve was there, blue eyes intense, making him feel transparent, and he doesn't like it. The way Steve looks at him like it means something, but he doesn't want him to stop, so he bites his lips, holds the words back, and lets Steve believe whatever he wanted to as he gradually fucks him into the mattress. His throat feels dry, and he swallows, trying to relieve the discomfort, wetting his lips, and trying to remember how to breathe while looking into Steve's eyes.

Sweat had loosened Steve's hair from its perfect coif, and his face is flushed. It couldn't have been from exertion, because James knows about his stamina, he's been briefed on his abilities, peak physical condition, and he was panting. James can't help but be flattered, the idea that Steve was that aroused by him settled well with him.

Steve cursed, and gave him a short, messy kiss, mostly teeth, and rough, "You're beautiful." He says, voice harsh, but sincere, "You're as beautiful as the day I lost you, Buck." He gasps.

James moans, head falling back into the pillows, and when Steve grasped his dick, his full body arched from the bed. Streams of curses spill from James' lips, maybe in English, he doesn't really know, but something makes Steve fuck him harder, and he can't remember the last time sex felt this good.

When James comes down, Steve is lying on his chest, and he's suddenly aware that the mattress is at a strange angle. A smile tugs at his lips, and he can't help it. Steve is nibbling at his lips before he can deduce anything more, and Bucky is content to let him.

"No wonder I kept you around all those years," Bucky smirked against Steve's mouth.

"Oh, that?" Steve let out a low chuckle, "Yeah, that's not exactly like I remember it..." He exhales with a smile, "I couldn't help myself."

"I was beginning to wonder how I could've possibly forgotten that."

"Mmm." Steve rested his head on Bucky's shoulder.

"Are you, like, super moral about sex or somethin'? 'Cause I want to do that shit all the time."

Steve laughed, but didn't answer. They lay there for a while, and Bucky watched curiously as a dark bruise slowly faded from Steve's collarbone. He doesn't remember putting that one in particular there, but there were a lot of gaps.

Bucky props himself up a bit, and when Steve looks at him, he leans forward and licks his lips. Steve kisses him before he pulls back, and Bucky can still taste himself on Steve's tongue.

And yes, he remembers that part perfectly.

Steve keeps kissing him, so Bucky bites his lips, and sucks his tongue until Steve moans into his mouth, pulling away, and falling, sprawled, on the mattress. "Where the hell've you been all this time?" Steve groans.

Bucky gives him a shove, sitting up, "You got any friends, Steve?"

"Of course," Steve props himself up, "Why?"

"Because we broke your bed, and I want to embarrass you in front of them."

Steve chuckled, and nudged Bucky forward until he could stand. "Sorry, no," he whispers, slipping a hand under the frame, lifting it up, and sliding the pieces back in the right general place for a quick fix. Then straightening the mattress, which still hung halfway off the bed frame.

"Damn it," Bucky pouted, hunting for his clothes, "I was looking forward to ruining your social life."

Steve only smiles, pushing Bucky back onto the bed, letting him settle, then draping himself over his back. They lay in silence for several minutes until Bucky speaks up, "Are you fucking cuddling me, Rogers?"

"Don't be stupid." Steve murmurs, but his mouth is turned into a smile. "I don't let people who curse in Russian cuddle with me.

James is tempted to point out that he doesn't think he actually did that, but he isn't quite sure, so he stays quiet.

"You can have the remote now." Steve whispers as he drifts.

James felt himself smile, "Damn you, Rogers."


End file.
